


Musings on Undeath

by V6ilill



Series: With Saviors Like These, Who Needs Salvation? [4]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls Online
Genre: Angst, Asshole Narrator, Character Study, Existential Angst, Gen, One Shot, Present Tense, Religious Guilt, Survivor Guilt, non-binary vestige, singular they pronouns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 09:34:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29557089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/V6ilill/pseuds/V6ilill
Summary: A Vestige goes through their day with the knowledge that their mere existence is an affront to the natural order
Series: With Saviors Like These, Who Needs Salvation? [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1871929
Kudos: 2





	Musings on Undeath

**Author's Note:**

> I'm scared of what's inside my head  
> What's inside my soul  
> I feel like I'm running  
> But getting nowhere  
> Fear is suffocating me  
> I can't breathe  
> I feel like I'm drowning  
> I'm sinking deeper  
> \- Eurielle "City of the dead"

Arin wakes. Prays. Praises the hallowed fire Akatosh has granted upon them, a Dragonknight. Laments for an order lost to time and human cruelty. Garbs themself in simple linen and unadorned armor, takes up their ax and shield, and spurs their steed along the road.

When the sun rises, they slays a great beast bothering a caravan on the road. When the sun climbs the slope of the sky, they tracks down a family heirloom taken by bandits. When the sun is high in the sky, they saves an argonian from a terrible fate at the hands of Covenant soldiers.

Then, Arin eats plain saltrice and drinks water. Prays for the souls of their comrades. Prays for-

No. Arin has no soul left to pray for. They belongs forever in the dread domain of Molag Bal, where they will suffer for all eternity until they has become so jaded to all pain that no torture can hurt them.

Would have suffered for all eternity, had Arin not escaped. Had Arin not been set free by a blind Prophet and his stalwart guardian, Lyris.

Arin packs their bags and does not pray for a soul they no longer has.

When shadows slither over the light-bathed hills, Arin helps evacuate a small dunmer town from a volcano eruption. When the sun droops over the black mountainsides, Arin herds lost kwama back to the mine. When the moons ascend into the night sky, Arin must rest.

Has they done enough? Has they helped all they could, or has they been selfish, and forsaken their duty in pursuit of creature comforts? Has they prayed with a sincere, open heart, or did they merely repeat empty words out of habit?

Arin supposes it matters not if they live honorably, or pray fervently. They is already damned. The only things whose souls belong to Molag Bal are abominations.

Besides, there is nothing in the world that can absolve them from the sin of cowardice and betrayal.

Arin sighs. Centers themself. Prays for forgiveness of their sinful thoughts. Thanks Akatosh, as they must. Sleeps.

In the morning, Arin wakes, yet uncorrupted by the baleful sway of the God of Schemes. They has not yet become truly like the undead abomination they has been for quite some time.

Arin wonders how long they will retain the feeble trappings of humanity (goodness, altruism, honor) when their soul has already been pledged to something so evil, and their body refuses to die.

That morning, Arin prays for salvation.


End file.
